And Only Time Will Tell
by Teagal7
Summary: This is my McGonagall/Harry/Good vs. Evil fic which was posted earlier. In order for me to put up part 3 and work out this chaptering business, I had to delete and repost! Chapter 3 is now up, though - please R&R!!
1. Default Chapter

A/N: Hi there! I'm Tea, this is my first story and I'm kinda nervous! This is starting out as a McGonagall fic, but eventually it will turn into a Harry/Good vs. Evil fic. Hopefully! Anyway, all familiar characters belong to Jo, all strange new ones are mine. Thanks!

And Only Time Will Tell - 1

December, 1949

Thud! Crash! Bang!   
Stomp-stomp-stomp - CRASH!

Sixteen year old Minerva McGonagall buried her head under her pillow, wondering why she hadn't stayed at school over Christmas vacation. It was only six o'clock in the morning, but already the 

McGonagall household was in full swing. Somewhere far below her, she could hear her mother yelling nondescript threats at one of her six younger brothers. Her cries were followed by another loud bang, and a rowdy burst of laughter. Yes, it was definitely going to be an interesting week.  


A sudden knock at her bedroom door startled Minerva into full consciousness. "Com'in" she mumbled, her voice still half-muffled by the pillow pulled firmly over her head. She heard the door creek open and a few seconds later felt the mattress groan under the weight of her visitor.   


"You're missing all the fun, you know." a dry, amused voice greeted her.   


"Am I?" her tired response was once again obstructed by the pillow over her face.  


"Come on, Kitty, don't be such a grump!" the pillow was yanked unceremoniously from her head, and Minerva found herself blinking into the identical brown eyes of her twin brother, Malcolm. His dark hair lay messily across his forehead as he grinned at her dumbly.  


"Hello!" he said brightly.  


She sighed. "Malcolm- I'm sleeping!" she grumbled, snatching her pillow back.   


"No, you're not."  


"Well, I _was_ sleeping before you felt the need to come bother me."  


He laughed at her. "Come on now, honestly, you couldn't have slept through _that!_" As if on cue, another tremendous bang from downstairs punctuated the end of his sentence. "Greggie's turned the range into a rabbit or some nonsense like that, and they've been chasing it all over the house for the past hour!"  


Minerva grinned at this amusing news. "How did he manage that?" she asked.  


"Got me, he's nearly failed out of Transfiguration this term. Father was about ready to let him have it last night when he got Dumbledore's note. 'Disgrace to the family' . . . 'ought to be ashamed of himself' . . . 'cast off to go live with Muggles' . . . I believe those were the highlights of his welcome home lecture." Malcolm recalled, flopping down beside his sister, his head propped up on his arm. 

"How's your headache?" he asked.  


"Better - believe it or not, with all that noise downstairs." Minerva replied with a crooked smile. Her brother chuckled and yawned,  


"They tried to keep it down to a dull roar last night. You know, mustn't disturb the _princess_."   


"Don't start!" she snapped, trying to shove him off the bed.   


"All right! Only joking! No need to get so feisty!" Malcolm sat up with his hands in the air in a sign of truce.   


"You know how I hate that." Minerva said quietly. Her brother's face softened slightly with sympathy.  


"Nobody blames _you_ for it, Min. The boys know thats just the way Dad is."  


"Yes . . . well, it's not all fun and games, being his pet." Minerva said sharply, brushing a dark curl away from her face.  


"I know that, and the rest of them know it too. I give you a lot of credit, Minnie, I could never live up to his standards like you do." said Malcolm, looking at her with genuine admiration.  


She looked up at him and smiled slightly. "Thanks."  


"Let's just try to enjoy this vacation, all right? I'm going to go see if they've managed to track down the stove yet, I'm starving. Get yourself out of bed, or I'll send the circus up to wrestle with you!" he called over his shoulder as he left the room.   


Minerva sat up and stared out the window at the rolling expanse of white, snow covered hills, thinking about what her brother had said. Live up to his standards. Sometimes she wasn't even sure if _she_ could live up to her father's standards. True, she was his favorite. That came from being the only girl in a family of 8 boys. More importantly, though, Minerva McGonagall was a prodigy. At age seven, her father had recognized in her a special something - a 'presence' was what he'd called it. He'd begun teaching her things- transfiguration spells, incantations. For hours each night she'd sit in his huge, dark study, going over and over the various spells. By age 8, she had achieved what often took grown wizards years to accomplish. She'd become an Animagi.   


She'd never forget the day her father took her up to London before the board of Registration at the Ministry - she'd never been so scared in her entire life. Her father sat off to the side, his chest puffed up with superior pride, while she'd stood before the panel of 7 grizzled wizards who had eyed her suspiciously over the table. She didn't want to do it, but she knew she had to. When her transformation was over, the older wizards began bombarding her with questions - how had she managed it? Was it safe for a girl of her years to be practicing such complex and potentially dangerous magic? Her father had stepped in, explaining away all their fears, while she'd stood there trembling under everyone's gaze, feeling like a bug under glass. In the end, they registered her, the youngest witch to ever become a certified Animagi since anyone could remember. Her father had to lift her up to sign the immense registry book. For several weeks after, reporters from the Daily Prophet and other wizarding media were banging down her front door, wanting to get a picture of her - and her father.   


Minerva wanted no part in the fame, and nearly buckled under the attention. She dreaded the day she would have to go to Hogwarts, knowing the other kids would cast her out because she was different - special. But by the time she'd come of age, most people had forgotten about the amazing Minerva McGonagall, and she found that she fit in quite nicely at school. She had her friends, she could do what she liked, there was no one around to constantly bother her. At home, however, was a different story. Her father had her on a pedestal - his little prodigy. He expected perfection in everything she did. He treated her like a museum piece - like something delicate and easily broken. Luckily her mother and her brothers did not share these feelings. They treated her like a normal person. Why in hell couldn't he?  


"Minerva? Are you awake? Breakfast is almost ready!" her mother's voice called to her up the stairs.   


"I'm coming!" she called back, and pulled herself reluctantly out of bed.  


* Thats it for now, what'd you think? There is action coming, I promise, but I would really, really appreciate any and all comments and suggestions! Especially from the veteran authors/readers/reviewers! Thanks!* 


	2. And Only Time Will Tell -2

A/N: My second installment! Considerably longer and hopefully more entertaining than the first part! The drama is coming, people, I promise! Please R/R! Thanks!

And Only Time Will Tell -2

Oddly enough, Minerva's favorite room in the house was the kitchen. It was a large, inviting room with plenty of windows to let in the soft winter sunshine. On this particular morning, her mother was cheerfully bustling around the stove, which looked no worse for the wear after it's little adventure. Mrs. McGonagall, a friendly, if somewhat plain looking woman, glanced up at her daughter as she entered the kitchen, still pulling a thick wool sweater over her head. 

"Good morning, pet! Sleep well?" she asked, giving Minerva a quick kiss as she passed her. 

"Fine, thanks, Mum." Minerva replied as she sat down and the battered old kitchen table, watching her mother stir a sweet smelling mixture that was bubbling away on the stove while simultaneously cracking two dozen eggs into a immense mixing bowl. 

She liked watching her mother cook - Mrs. McGonagall took pride in the upbringing of her large brood and was always baking or mending or looking after someone. She was a perpetually cheerful woman - always telling stories or singing little songs while she worked. Minerva often wondered at her mother's constant energy and blithe spirit - she doubted that she would ever be able to raise so many children and remain so genuinely happy about it. 

"Your brothers were at it again this morning, bless them. I was absolute furious - especially after the lecture your father gave them all last night - but, I have to admit, I do rather miss it when you're all off at school . . . it gets far too quiet around here." Mrs. McGonagall sighed and wiped her hands on her apron. Minerva grinned.

"Just wait until the end of vacation, Mum, you'll be dying to send us back."

"Never." replied Mrs. McGonagall firmly. "You and your brothers could stay here till your old and gray as far as I'm concerned - I'd never get tired of having you all around. You'll understand when your a mother someday." Laughing, she sniffed and wiped her eyes with a dish towel. "Right then, I'm not going to get all sentimental about things. God knows, the boys could all be expelled from Hogwarts tomorrow and then where would we be?" she rolled her eyes.

"Where are the boys?" Minerva asked. The house seemed oddly quiet now, no doubt a sign that someone was up to mischief.

"I sent them out back for awhile. Why don't you go and call them in, breakfast is nearly ready."

Minerva slipped on her cloak and hurried out the back door and around to the side of the house. There was a gully there where the yard sloped down towards the road, and if she knew her brothers, they'd probably be staging a snowball fight in this well protected battle zone. As she crossed the yard, a tremendous slushball sailed passed her head at break -neck speed. Minerva gasped as the missile narrowly missed her and went crashing into the side of the house, nearly breaking an upstairs window. 

"Adian!" she called, knowing all too well who the launcher of that particular snowball must have been.

"Wasn't me!" an indignant voice called to her from somewhere behind a large oak tree. Fourteen year old Adian was a beater for the Griffindor Quidditch team, and prided himself on his tremendous upper body strength. 

"Better watch out, Minnie, you're entering the line of fire!" another voice called, young and husky from the cold. 

"Very funny, Sloane, if you hit me with anything you'll live to regret it!" she cried in a warning tone. She was answered with a round of boyish laughter, surrounding her on all sides.

"Mum wants you all to come in for breakfast. Greggie, I _see_ you up in that tree, now get down and come inside!"

"Ah - Min, I was just playin' with ya!" Gregory drawled as he jumped down from the tree, landing nimbly on his feet beside his sister. Gregory was thirteen years old and entering a 'difficult' phase. His practical jokes seemed to be causing a lot of grief both at home and at school, but Gregory seemed blissfully unaware of the trouble he caused. A genuinely funny and likable boy, he was popular among his peers and one of his sister's favorites. Not that Minerva would ever admit to playing favorites - she knew the kind of trouble that caused. No, she loved each and every one of her siblings equally, no matter how bothersome they could be. 

The boys obediently abandoned their hiding places and charged towards the house.   
"Last one inside's a filthy squib!' crowed Sloane, who had just turned twelve and was the youngest McGonagall child attending Hogwarts. Ten year old Preston and seven year old Tully still had a few years before joining their older siblings at school.

The boys let out a whoop and doubled their pace. Minerva rolled her eyes and followed behind them sedately. Malcolm and fifteen year old Willard slowed down slightly, waiting for her to catch up.

"Min, have you heard from Ian yet?" Willard asked. Ian Kensington was Minerva's beau of 5 years - they'd been a couple since their second year at Hogwarts when Malcolm had introduced them. Minerva shook her head at Willard's question.

"He's visiting his aunt in France over Christmas break, so I don't know when I'll hear from him next." 

" I was just wondering. His sister - you know, Emily - she's . . . well, I was just - just curious . . . " Willard stammered, a pink flush creeping into his cheeks. Malcolm grinned.

"Ooo- Willis, better get ahold of yourself there, boy. Wouldn't want to be up to any trouble now, would ya?" Willard turned an even brighter shade of red. Minerva smacked Malcolm up side the head.

"What was that for?!" he cried, rubbing the back of his skull.

"I don't think she's dating anyone, Willis. Do you want me to ask?" Minerva asked, ignoring Malcolm's moans. Willard shook his head quickly, terrified at the very thought of his older sister talking to his crush.

"No - no, that's ok Min. Please, both of you, just don't mention this to anyone, all right? Especially the rest of them," he jerked his head in the direction of the house. "I'd kill them if they ever said anything to her. Please?" he looked longingly at his brother and sister.

"Well you know your secret's safe with me. It's this big mouth you should worry about." Minerva elbowed Malcolm, who was now very innocently studying the distant horizon, trying to keep a straight face.

"Malcolm, please . . ."

"What's that then?"

"Mal, I'd die if she knew! Stop being so bloody stupid!"

"You'd like me to ask Emily Kensington if she fancies you?"

"You're a real arse, you know that?"

"At Quidditch practice? In front of the team, then?"

"Malcolm, you really are a supreme ass." Minerva interjected in defense of her younger brother. Malcolm threw his hands up in the air in exasperation.

"What - can't anyone in this family take a joke?! Surprising, since we've got a bunch of foolish twits for brothers!" he sighed heavily. " I'm not gonna talk to her, Willis, you can keep your shirt on."

Willard rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Good," was all he said, turning towards the house. 

"But I might tell Aidan to make a move on her - he's a right tiger, that one!"

"Oh, go to hell, Malcolm!" Minerva laughed, following after her younger brother.

Ever since Minerva could remember, the McGonagall household had been filled with pets. Their father thought that raising animals would teach them all some responsibility. His plan, though noble in theory, had not worked out so well in practice. The house was constantly teaming with creatures of all kinds, most of which were in some state of disarray. The older boys often brought home rats and toads they'd acquired at school, and used them to practice their 'homework.' This meant trying various summoning charms, color changing spells, and hiccuping hexes on the poor, defenseless things. Mrs. McGonagall was forever yelling at the boys to leave the animals alone. 

Despite their behavior towards these 'pocket pets', as Gregory liked to call them, the McGonagall children did take good care of their other animals. Minerva had a cat named Athena, given to her by her grandmother on the day she became an Animagi. Malcolm also had a cat, named Achilles, although he rarely paid it much mind. It's unofficial owner was Tully, who loved animals of all kinds, and who often hollered at his older brothers when they were practicing stupid tricks on mice and other creatures. 

The McGonagall's also had a goat, cleverly named Goat. Morgan, who was now 18 years old, the eldest McGonagall child, had named Goat when he was three, and Goat had been an esteemed member of the family ever since. In the spring and summer, the boys let Goat run wild over the moorlands, where he could eat his fill of the sweet grass and frolic on the craggy hillsides with the sheep. In the winter months, Goat was confined to the large barn out beyond the garden fence. Occasionally, when Mr. and Mrs. McGonagall were not around, the boys would let Goat come inside and run up and down the huge staircase in the front hall. They enjoyed this game almost as much as Goat did. 

Later that afternoon, while Minerva was trying to memorize some complex antidotes for Potions class, a loud commotion from the front hall made her stop and lift her head from her book. Her mother had gone down the road to have tea with her best friend Millie McKenzie, and Minerva was left in charge of making sure the house was still standing when she returned home. 

"Get that goat out of the house!" she hollered down the stairs, not wanting to move from her comfortable seat by the fire.

More crashes, followed by a frantic shout, moved her to her feet. She was headed down the hallway towards the staircase when another scream and the distinct sound of sobbing made her stomach flip-flop. Tears meant disaster. She ran towards the noise.

"Minerva!"

When she reached the top of stairs, the first thing she saw was Tully lying on the floor at bottom, sobbing uncontrollably. Willard was bending over him, trying to calm him down, but the little boy was hysterical. Across the front hall, Adian, Gregory and Sloane were trying to restrain Goat, who was bucking violently, apparently having some sort of fit. 

"What happened?!" Minerva cried, rushing to her baby brother. 

"Goat's gone mad!" Gregory shouted, still trying to hold back the wild, snorting animal. 

"He tried to get Tully!!" Preston shrieked fearfully, ducking behind Willard. 

Minerva took a deep breath, pulled out her wand, and pointed it at Goat.  
"Stand back!" she shouted at her brothers. With a flash and a pop, the wild Goat suddenly became a fuzzy, sniffling gopher, who began scurrying across the floor of the front hall.

"Someone grab it!" Gregory commanded, and the three boys raced after it. Minerva turned her attention to Tully, who was still lying on the ground, sobbing gustily.

"Tully, what happened? Are you all right?" she asked, bending over him.

"He hit me! He hit me!" the little boy screamed, his hands covering his face.

"Where did he hit you?" Minerva asked, trying to remain calm.

"My eye!" 

"Let her look at it Tully." said Willard, glancing from the injured boy to his older sister, trying to decipher the worried expression on her face.

"No!" Tully moaned, turning over on to his side, his face still buried in his hands.

"Come on, Tully, I'm not going to touch it, I just want to see if it's all right." Minerva said, trying to hide her nervousness. If her baby brother was blinded while in her care, she might as well start packing now. Her parents would never forgive her.

"It _is_ all right." Tully's sobs had died down somewhat, but he did not remove his hands from his face.

"Hey, now Sport- you're all right then." said Gregory gently, coming over to stand by Minerva. He was holding the wriggling gopher in his hands. "Goat didn't mean it - don't know what's got into him, Min." he added quietly to his sister. 

She nodded her head, kneeling beside Tully on the floor. The little boy had stopped sobbing - he continued to snuffle into his hands while his siblings stood around for a moment, staring at him. 

"I only want Kitty." he sniffed, and the other boys exchanged a knowing look. Tully loved to horse around with his older brothers whenever he could, but he didn't like cry in front of them. Respecting his wishes, Aidan said quietly, 

"Let's take the - er - Goat out to the barn. Come on, boys." they followed in his wake.   
Tully continued to sniffle in silence for a moment, before moving his hands from his blotchy face.

"It's all right, Tully, come here," said Minerva gently, opening her arms to him. The little boy scrambled into his sister's embrace, burying his face in her shoulder. 

"Shhhhh . . . " Minerva soothed, holding the trembling child in her arms. Relief flooded through her - at least he wasn't blind.

"Why did Goat come after me, Kitty, I was just playing with him. Like I always do," Tully sniffed,wiping his nose on the back of his hand. Minerva pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to him.

"I don't know, Tully, but it's not your fault. You didn't do anything wrong. Although you boys really shouldn't have let Goat in the house in the first place." she made a mental note to yell at the older ones for this later. Really, they should have known better. 

"He likes to come in the house." Tully said quietly. He was calm now that the older boys were gone, and puzzled by the strange behavior of his beloved pet. Minerva was rather puzzled herself. Lately Goat hadn't wanted to do much of anything besides eat and sleep and lie about in the garden. Something about the whole situation left her feeling uneasy. She would have to tell her parents about this - something needed to be done about Goat.

"You're going to tell Mum and Dad, aren't you?" Tully said, watching her carefully. He often startled Minerva with statements like this - it was almost as though he could read her mind. Definitely some potential for Divination in this boy - perhaps he was a true Seer, unlike that big phony Sybil Trelawney from Hufflepuff house. 

"I have to. Suppose Goat is sick, Mum and Dad will know what to do to make him better." she explained, although she could see from the look on his face that he wasn't really buying it.

"What if they try to send him away?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly at the very thought of losing Goat.

"They wouldn't do that," Minerva said gently, praying that he wasn't about to start crying again.

"But what if they do?" there was a look of earnest worry in his eyes and it tugged at her heart. 

"Nothing bad is going to happen to Goat, Tully. I promise." she said, giving him a hug.

It was the first promise Minerva McGonagall ever broke.

Twilight began to settle over the countryside, and the McGonagall household was unusually quiet. Upon her arrival home, Mrs. McGonagall was informed of the incident with Goat, and was rather baffled by the whole thing.

"Imagine - Goat going after Tully! I can't even fathom it! Oh, thank goodness you were hurt, darling, I don't know what I'd do!" she pulled Tully into a tight embrace, and he promptly wriggled out of her grasp. 

"Goat didn't mean it, Mum. He was just scared."

"Scared? Of what?" Malcolm asked. The boys glanced at each other, shrugging innocently.

"What was the animal doing in the house in the first place?" Mrs. McGonagall demanded, whirling on her older children.

"Ah - Mum, we didn't mean it - he likes to come in the house and play. He doesn't get enough exercise out there during the winter!" Sloane pleaded, but Mrs. McGonagall was not to be trifled with. 

"I don't care!! Goat stays outside and thats an order! Really, I don't know what you boys are coming to . . . " she fumed, banging down a large frying pan on the stove. Preston jumped.

"What are you going to do, Mum?" Gregory asked quietly.

"That will be for your father to decide," she said darkly as she began preparing for dinner. "Now I suggest you all go find something _quiet_ to do until he gets home."

Minerva retired to her room to make a second attempt at her Potions homework, but her mind kept straying back to the events of the afternoon. Realizing that she wasn't about to get any work done, she put her books away and went off in search of her brothers.

They were all in the parlor, nervously trying to occupy the time until their father arrived home from work. Malcolm and Willard were play a solemn game of wizard chess beside the fireplace, while Tully and Preston sat watching over their shoulders. Adian was sprawled across the sofa, polishing his battered old broomstick. On the floor beside him, Gregory and Sloane were going through an old edition of the Daily Prophet, drawing beards and moustaches on the various magical photos, who scurried from page to page trying to escape their pens.   
None of the boys glanced up as she entered the room, but after a minute, Sloane asked quietly, "What do you think Dad's going to do to us, Min?"

"Oh, it's not your fault, boys. You shouldn't have been playing with Goat in the house, but you didn't make him go . . . go . . . " she struggled to find the correct word.

"Crazy." Gregory offered.

"What do you think's wrong with him?" Preston asked in a trembly voice. Malcolm shrugged. 

"Maybe he's just old, and sick and tired of you nutters chasing him about all day long. It'd be enough to drive anyone crazy!"

"You didn't see him, Malcolm. There was something _wrong_ with him." Adian put down his broom and looked up at his older brother. "His eyes got all - I dunno . . .strange. Like all of a sudden he didn't know who we were or something. When he turned on Tully he looked about ready to kill him."

"Couldn't have been that serious, Tully doesn't have a scratch on him." Malcolm observed, glancing over his shoulder at his youngest brother.

"Well . . . that's cos Greggie hit Goat over the head with a chair before he attacked him." Sloane piped in.

"No wonder he's off his rocker! You great twits have probably been giving him brain damage for years! Hitting him over the head with a chair!" Malcolm cried.

"It wasn't a very big chair! Just one of those spindly ones Mum keeps in the front hall!" Gregory said defensively. Malcolm snorted.

"Well that makes it better, then. So long as it wasn't a _big _ chair!"  
"It wasn't Goat!" Tully cried so suddenly that even Malcolm and Gregory stopped their bickering to look at him. He was staring into the fireplace with a strange expression on his face. "Goat would never want to hurt me! It wasn't him!" he turned his gaze towards his sister. "It wasn't!"

"Sure you didn't hit _him _ over the head?" Sloane said under his breath, but Minerva ignored him. She was concerned by the look of fear in Tully's eyes. The boy was clearly terrified of something - but what about the dumb, docile pet Goat could have possibly frightened him that much?

"It's all right, there, Tully. Goat's all right." said Malcolm distractedly, turning back to the chess game.

"No he isn't! Something's very wrong with him!" Tully insisted. His little face was turning pink with frustration. "Why don't you believe me?!"

"We do believe you, brother, it's ok." said Gregory kindly. "Dad's gonna take care of Goat, you'll see. Why don't you come here and draw pictures with Sloane and I? Here, you can have this one!" he tossed Tully the Halloween edition of the Daily Prophet. Tully caught it reluctantly and joined his brothers on the floor.

"Check mate, you sucker!" Malcolm crowed.

"Play me next!" Preston insisted, trying to shove Willard out of the chair.

"You ruddy cheater!" Willard gasped.

"I did not cheat! Minnie, did I cheat?" Malcolm demanded, calling his sister to his defense.

"Probably." she said absently, flopping into an armchair by the fireplace. She suddenly felt very tired, and her head was starting to pound again.   
Malcolm sputtered with outrage. "I - I did not!!! What have I done to deserve grief from you lot?!!" The boys laughed at him, as he ranted on.

" My own brothers - my clansmen, turning against me at every possible opportunity!! No one ever listens to Malcolm - 'don't talk to Malcolm, he's just a crabby old git!' And my sister," he fixed his gaze now on Minerva, "my _twin_ sister, the one person who's supposed to know me better than anyone . . . " he paused, struggling for words.

"Are you quite finished?" Minerva asked dully. The boys snickered.

"See! There it is right there! I'm trying to express my feelings of frustration in an open and positive manner, and what words of encouragment and support does she give me? 'Are you quite finished?' Well, I'll show you finished!" he moved to pounce on her, but Minerva quickly drew up her knees.

"Malcolm, don't! I'm not joking, I have a headache!" she said sharply. The expression on her face made him back off.

"What's with you and these headaches?" Aidan asked, frowning slightly.

"Yeh, you never get headaches." said Gregory.

"Well, except for yesterday," Sloane pointed out reasonably.

"And today." 

Malcolm was grinning devilishly at her now. "You haven't been wearing them, have you?" he said with a quiet chuckle. The other boys immedately leaned in to hear better. Minerva bristled.

"Haven't been wearing what?" she asked, massaging her temples. 

"Oh, you know perfectly well what! I should tell mother on you, I should." Malcolm went on, perching himself on the arm of her chair with a knowing smile on his face. The boys simply couldn't resist.

"Tell Mum what?"

"What didn't you do, Min?"

"Tell us, you can't keep secrets around here!" 

Minerva was now glaring at her brother. Malcolm pointedly ignored her, the silly smile still plastered on his face.

"No, I'm not going to tell them. _I'm_ going to be a good brother and defend my sister, respect her wishes," he got up and began a slow amble around to the other side of Minerva's chair. 

"After all," he went on, " if she wants to keep it a secret that Madam Hester is making her wear glasses, well who am I to betray her secret?"

"Glasses!"

"When did you get glasses?"

"Do Mum and Dad know?"

"I've never seen you wear glasses!

"Where are they? Put 'em on!"

"Malcolm - I'm going to murder you!" Minerva growled, but Malcolm simply wandered towards the other side of the room, whistling innocently.

It was true, the nurse at Hogwarts had given her glasses after she'd been complaining of headaches over the fall semester. She was supposed to be wearing them for reading and any other kind of close distance activity, but the truth was Minerva absolutely hated them. She thought they made her look too severe and prissy. Ian had said they made her look "smarter", which she didn't really take as a compliment. She knew that Madam Hester had sent a note to her parents informing them of the situation, but she was hoping they'd forgotten. Now that the boys knew, she was as good as caught. 

"That's not such an interesting secret." mumbled Aidan, going back to his broom. 

"Minnie, if you just put them on for us once, we won't tell Mum about it, we promise. Right boys?" Gregory turned to his other brothers, who nodded in solemn agreement. 

Minerva sighed, knowing she was beat. Reluctantly, she took the pair of wire rimmed, square spectacles from her pocket and put them on. She waited, flushing slightly, for a reaction.

"They make you look . . . mean," Preston said finally. No one seemed ready to argue with him. 

"Do you have to wear them all the time, Kitty?" Gregory asked gently.   
She shook her head, trying to control the tears that lay just beneath the surface. She didn't dare look at Malcolm, for fear of what she might do. She couldn't remember the last time she was so angry. She swallowed hard and took them off.

"Now you promised not to tell Mum." she said quietly. The boys nodded. 

"You lot better not break that promise, understand?" Gregory said, casting a warning glance around the room.

Further discussion was interrupted by the sound of the front door banging closed.

"Oh shit," hissed Sloane, looking positively scared. "Dad's home."  
  


*Ooo! Suspense! What will happen to Goat the goat? Will the McGonagall boys survive Christmas vacation? Who WILL survive Christmas vacation? Does anyone out there care? Will this story ever become interesting? Where is our beloved Harry Potter? - so many questions, to be answered at a later date! Like it or not, another installment soon to follow!* 


	3. And Only Time Will Tell -3

And Only Time Will Tell - 3

A/N: Thanks to all who have read the first 2 parts of this story! This is definately the most dramatic installment thus far - I'm hoping it's not boarding on cheesy! Feedback is always appreciated! Thanks!

Mr. McGonagall was not a mean man. A strict man, perhaps - a man who believed in setting down rules, and then living by them religiously. Most of the time, his heart was in the right place. He tried his best to instill in his children a sense of responsibility and an understanding of the importance of hard work. He did this for their own benefit - that they might one day go out and make something of themselves. He believed in his children, he really did. But perhaps he believed in them a little too much.

He had great plans for his older children. Morgan, who had just graduated from Hogwarts, was doing nicely at the Ministry. Mr. McGonagall had hopes that he would one day become head of his department. He had no worries whatsoever about Minerva - she would go far in whatever she decided to do. Malcolm too, for all his sarcasm, was a very bright boy. Even Willard and Aidan were studious, dispite their tendencies to act like . . .well, like teenage boys. 

It was Gregory he was the most worried about - not because the boy wasn't smart - he could be head boy if he put his mind to it. The problem with Gregory was that he simply didn't try. And nothing irritated Cameron McGonagall more than a boy who refused to show initiative. He hoped that his lecture had given them all something to think about before they headed back to school. It was, after all, his fatherly duty to instill this wisdom in his children. 

And above everything else, Mr. McGonagall believed in duty.

The McGonagall children sat frozen in the parlor, listening to trier father's footsteps. They heard him hang up his cloak, and say something to Morgan, who had apparently come home with him. They listened intently as his footsteps crossed the front hall, heading in the direction of the kitchen.

"Hide!" whispered Gregory.

"I don't know what you're all so worked up about. So you let the goat in the house. Big deal! He'll yell, probably, but he won't kill you."

Malcolm was still ruffled somewhat by the confrontation with his sister. He saw in her eyes just how much he'd embarrassed her, and now he felt rather badly. The other boys didn't seem to be paying much attention to Malcolm, however. They were listening for any clues as to what might be going on in the kitchen. While they were all sitting there in silence, Morgan wandered into the parlor, still wearing his cloak.

"Evening all! What - what are you doing?" he asked, watching them with a skewed expression. It was rare for his brothers to ever be sitting still, never mind sitting still and being quiet.

"Shhh!" hissed Sloane, his head cocked in the direction of the door.  
This was too much for Morgan. "Shhhh? What are you listening for? What did you boys do?" He glanced at Minerva for some clue as to what might possibly be going on, but she was staring into the fireplace, looking sullen. 

The sudden sound of footsteps caused a flurry of activity in the room, and Morgan stood there dumbfounded as his brothers quickly resumed their normal attitudes of rambunctiousness. Willard grabbed Preston and began randomly setting up chessmen, Sloane, Gregory and Aidan started a wrestling match, with Tully cheering from the sofa. 

After a few seconds, the parlor door slowly swung open, and the boys froze once again. Mr. McGonagall stood there, a strange expression on his face.

"You lot. Follow me." was all he said. His tone did not betray his feelings.

Willard, Aidan, Gregory, Sloane, Preston and Tully silently got to their feet and shuffled out of the parlor in single file. Minerva and Malcolm remained, sitting on opposite sides of the room. Neither of them spoke or acknowledged the other's presence. Morgan cleared his throat nervously. 

"Are you two coming?" he asked tentatively.

"I suppose so," said Malcolm after along pause. He got up from his chair, glanced sideways at his sister, and then headed for the door. 

Minerva sat alone in the parlor for a moment. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. She wasn't going to go outside. She wasn't . . . oh, all right, yes she was. Curiosity got the better of her, and she went out to the barn.

*********************

When Minerva arrived, Mr. McGonagall was bending over a very lethargic Goat. The boys were standing around him in a semi-circle, saying nothing. 

"Willard, tell me what happened." Mr. McGonagall said, still closely examining the dull looking animal.

"Well, we let Goat into the house, see. Mum had gone out for awhile, and we though it would be fun to let him run for a bit," Mr. McGonagall grunted at this statement. Willard paused for a moment, swallowed, and then continued.

"But then he got all crazy. His eyes went strange and he started twitching and running about and he charged at Tully and almost knocked him down."

"Tully, what were you doing?" 

"Nothing, sir. I was just standing by the stairs."

Mr. McGonagall remained silent for another minute. Then he straighter up and said, "No one is to go near this goat, is that understood? He is to remain in this barn until tomorrow, when I will be taking him to the Ministry with me."

"Dad! He didn't mean it!"

"Don't take him away, please Dad!"

"We're sorry. We promise, it won't happen again!"

Mr. McGonagall held up his hands. 

"This has nothing to do with you boys. I am not angry. I am assuming that your mother has already warned you about letting animals into the house and that you will not do it again," he reinforced this statement with a severe glance. "However, I am concerned that there is something much more serious going on here. I'm going to have Goat looked at by some wizards who are more - experienced in this field than I."

"Is he sick?" asked Tully fearfully. Mr. McGonagall's hard expression softened slightly at the concern of his youngest child. 

"No, Tully. He isn't sick. Now I suggest you all go in the house and wash up before dinner."

The nine McGonagall children marched back through the snow towards the house, their father following just behind them. They didn't notice him locking the barn door tightly with his wand before he joined them at the dinner table.

*****************

And so, Christmas arrived in a flurry of snow and activity. Mrs. McGonagall began cooking for the holiday almost three days in advance. Soon the whole house was filled with the delicious smells of turkey, puddings and pies. 

Mr. McGonagall took the children out to find the perfect Christmas tree - a full, rich scented pine. The boys spend an entire afternoon decorating it with magical snow that didn't melt indoors, as well as a variety of other spells. Sloane and Gregory managed to catch a brightly colored pixie to place at the top of the tree instead of a star, but Mrs. McGonagall put her foot down.

"You bring one pixie into this house, and pretty soon we'll be infested with them!" she clucked, shooing the boys back outside. 

At this time of year, Minerva mused, it was impossible to maintain a quarrel with her brother. She and Malcolm came to an unspoken truce, and suddenly the world seemed a lot brighter. School troubles, ugly glasses - even the issue with Goat was forgotten as Christmas drew ever closer. The boys were suddenly on their best behavior, her father was smiling and laughing with them. They were one big, happy family, Minerva sighed. Times like this made her wish that she could stay at home forever. 

Christmas morning dawned bright and clear. Minerva awoke to find her bed surrounded by 7 grinning, sleep-tossled faces.

"Merry Christmas!" Malcolm crowed.

"I'm getting a lock for this door," she groaned, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"C'mon, Min, I want to see what Santa's brought us!" Tully cried. He was nearly jumping out of his skin with excitement. 

"What time is it?" she asked, stifling a yawn. 

"Half past five. We woke up Morgan first - thought we'd let you sleep in a little." Gregory said, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

"Uggghhhhh - it's too bloody early! Can't you all go back to bed for half an hour?" she pleaded.

"Nope!" said Sloane brightly. 

"There was a time when you used to enjoy getting up early Christmas morning!" Malcolm reminded her sweetly. 

"That time has since passed." she mumbled. 

"Min, don't make me turn your bed into a rhinoceros."

"All right, all right, I'm getting up!" She winced as her feet hit the icy hard-wood floor. Malcolm handed her her bathrobe, which she hastily threw on over her flannel nightgown.

"Lets go wake up Mum and Dad!" shouted Tully, racing off down the hallway. The older boys merrily joined him. In the hallway, Morgan was standing outside his bedroom door, looking dazed.

"What time is it?" he asked Minerva.

"Too early," she replied, leaning against the wall. Down the hall, she could hear the boys singing "We Wish You A Merry Christmas" in her parents' bedroom. 

"I should have stayed in London," yawned Morgan. Malcolm snorted. 

"Nah, you would have shown up on the doorstep anyway. Couldn't have lasted a whole Christmas without us."

Morgan blinked. "Yes, I could have."

Before this debate could continue, Mrs. McGonagall appeared at the end of the hall, surrounded by her sons. Mr. McGonagall followed, rubbing his face with his hands. They both looked half-awake.

"Shall we go down, then?" Mrs. McGonagall murmured, and the boys rushed ahead of her, tearing down the stairs and into the parlor. Mr. McGonagall grumbled something unintelligiable about the time as they staggered into the room behind them.

"Wow!" Tully exclaimed, surveying the parlor with wide-eyed awe. There were gifts flooding the floor beneath the tree, all brightly colored and wrapped in shiny paper and ribbons. Mrs. McGonagall sat in the armchair beside the fireplace, and smiled blearily at her youngest son. 

"Go ahead, love. Pass out the presents." 

Tully dove into the copious pile of gifts and began calling out the names on the tags.  
"Greggie! . . . Willis! . . . Preston! . . . Aidian! . . . Minerva! . . . Sloane! . . . Malcolm! . . Dad! . . . Morgan! . . . Mum!" 

"Oh, yes!" Aidan exclaimed, unwrapping a brand new broomstick. "Its the best! Thanks, Mum and Dad!" 

Mr. and Mrs. McGonagall sat serenely watching their children excitedly tearing open their presents. Even Morgan had slid unnoticed from his seat on the sofa and was now sitting happily on the floor amongst his siblings, ripping open a box containing a new Quik-Note Quill and Secretary from his parents. 

Minerva was pleased to find most of her presents contained new clothing and books - very useful and welcome gifts. She watched her younger brothers as they sat amid the wrapping paper and boxes, delightedly playing with their new things. Gregory and Sloane had both relieved a Deluxe Filabuster Fireworks Set - and were already making plans to set off a display that afternoon. Willard was blushing in his smart new pullover sweater, and Tully was trying to turn the tea-kettle into a toad with his new Junior Wand. She sighed contentedly. She loved Christmas.

"Oh - before I forget!" Malcolm jumped from his seat on the floor, nearly tripping over the tie on his new bathrobe as went. A moment later he reappeared, carrying a small, neatly wrapped box.

"This came for you the other day, but Ian told me to hide it and give it to you on Christmas." said Malcolm. He placed the box in Minerva's lap and dropped to the floor to sit beside her. The rest of her family turned their focus to her as well.

"How sweet!" Mrs. McGonagall clucked, while the younger boys drew closer to their sister. "Open it, Kitty! See what it is!" Preston cried anxiously. Minerva blushed, feeling slightly embarrassed by the sudden attention. She undid the ribbon and slowly tore the paper away. Inside was a small, dark green velvet box. She glanced at Malcolm.

"I have no idea what it is. I only know he got it in Paris - he wanted to get you something special while he was away." he replied quietly.

Slowly, Minerva opened the box. Inside was a heart, make of a curious pink colored stone, on a silver chain. Minerva stared at it for a moment, while her brothers peered around, trying to get a better look. She carefully lifted the necklace from the box.

"Oh . . . Minerva, how lovely!" Mrs. McGonagall cooed softly. 

"Aw - thats not exciting! Just some dumb jewelry!" Sloane exclaimed loudly.

"Well what did you expect, you great stupid lout?" Gregory retorted.

"Boys!" said Mr. McGonagall sharply, and they both fell silent. 

"There's a note - in the box ." Malcolm informed her. Minerva fastened the heart around her neck, and then unfolded the paper at the bottom of the box.

_Dear Minnie - _

_I wanted to get you something really nice for Christmas - not just chocolate or slippers or whatever dumb thing I gave you last year. I found this at a shop in Paris - the stone changes color as time passes and our relationship grows. When I bought it, the stone was white - like a diamond. When I was wrapping it, though, I noticed it was already starting to turn pink - which must be a good sign, right?  
I miss you very much - I can't wait until vacation is over and I can see you again! I just want you to know how special you are to me - I couldn't imagine my life without you. Merry Christmas - I love you,  
Ian_

Minerva folded the note carefully, and placed it back into the box. She swallowed hard, trying valiantly not to let her tears show, and then got up to study her necklace more carefully in the hall mirror. It was beautiful - sparkly like a diamond, but its core seemed to emit a rosy glow which gave the whole stone a pink shade. 

She and Ian had been together for what felt like forever. Their relationship was steady - more than a friendship, but never particularly mushy or romantic. Ian was never one for huge displays of affection - he didn't write love notes or buy her flowers. Instead, he did sweet little things, things that only she would notice. He'd hold open doors for her, or wrap his cloak around her shoulders at Quidditch matches. She never expected a gift like this from him - not because she doubted his feelings for her, but because it simply wasn't his style. She knew he must have put a lot of thought into this, and she was touched beyond belief. She wished that he was here with her now, so she could tell him just how much she loved him back.

"Do you like it?" Malcolm had snuck away from the boisterous group in the parlor, and was standing in the doorway, watching his sister.

"I love it. It's the most beautiful, wonderful present . . .I'm never going to take it off." she sighed, turning once again to stare at the stone in the mirror. 

"I'm glad you do. He's a good man, Ian Kensington - not just because he's my friend, either." said Malcolm, coming over to stand beside her. "He really does love you to pieces, Min. And you know, I wouldn't let just anyone get attached to _my _sister." He smiled at her.   
She smiled back at him, understanding his meaning.

"I love him too, very much." 

"As much as you love your fabulous brother?"

She laughed. "Almost." 

"What are you two doing out there? C'mon, Aidan's going to give us all a turn on his new broom!" Preston called from the parlor doorway.

"Not in the house, he's not!" Mrs. McGonagall's anxious voice reached the front hall.

"Off we go, I don't want to miss this!" Malcolm grinned, grabbing his sister's hand and pulling her back into the parlor.

**********************

That evening, after a day spent eating and celebrating, Minerva McGonagall retired to her bedroom exhausted and cheerful. The holidays, like most other days in the McGonagall household, were never boring. Sloane and Gregory had set off a fantastic display of fireworks, although nearly singeing their father's new waistcoat in the process. After Christmas dinner, the McGonagall children went out and frolicked about in the snow, pelting one another with snowballs until it was nearly dark. After a steaming mug of hot chocolate, Mrs. McGonagall had sent them all off to bed with a kiss.

Minerva was looking forward to long sleep after a busy day. With her necklace still fastened around her neck, she changed and got ready for bed. She was just about to turn off the light, when a quiet knock at the door made her groan.

"Malcolm, whatever it is, I'm going to bed."

"Minerva, it's important."

She stopped. Something in her brother's voice told her that he was serious, since he very rarely ever addressed her by her full name. She got up and opened the door. Before she had a chance to say anything, Malcolm slid into the room and shut the door behind them both. 

"What's the matter?" she asked, watching him with concern. He sat down on the bed, looking rather pale, and motioned for her to sit beside him, which she did.

"Don't just sit there, Malcolm, tell me what's happened!" she cried, somewhat puzzled by his silence. He struggled a moment longer to find the correct words.

"I just heard Mum and Dad talking," he began. "I shouldn't have been listening, but I was. Dad took Goat up to the Ministry a few days ago to have him examined by some experts - experts in Dark Magic."

"What? - Why?" Minerva frowned, not understanding at all what Malcolm meant. How could their family pet possibly be of any importance to the powerful Ministry experts?

"That's not the half of it. Dad received an owl from their office today - Christmas Day, of all days. They've been watching Goat, and they have concluded that he is under the influence of an Imperius curse."

"_What?_" This was too much for Minerva. "Malcolm, why would anyone want to put Goat under an Imperius curse?"

"The Ministry believes that Dad - and the family - are being targeted by former followers of the Dark Wizard Grindelwald."

"But - but Professor Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald four years ago! Why would Dad possibly be a target for them now?"

"It seems as though dark magic is once again on the rise. Dark wizards are slowly reorganizing - all very much in secret, of course, by the Ministry has their eye on them. There are rumors - rumors that they are looking for someone to be their next leader." Malcolm paused, staring at his sister with grim concern. Minerva stared back at him, still struggling to grasp the meaning of his words.

"But - why Dad? Why our family? What do we have to do with any of this?" she demanded. Malcolm sighed.

"I guess Dad played more of a role in the fight against Grindelwald than any of us realized. He was working closely with Dumbledore and the Ministry as an Auror, trying to weed out any spies in the system. I suppose he must have made some followers of the Dark Wizard pretty angry, and now he's afraid that they might use us as a warning to other members of the Ministry."

"By putting a curse on our goat? You've got to admit, Malcolm, that's not much of a warning." 

"Dad's afraid that the Goat incident is only the beginning. Obviously they know where we are, they know about the family. Who knows how long they've been watching the house, or if they still are."

Minerva shuddered. She and Malcolm both glanced involuntarily towards the window, and the black night surrounding the countryside. Malcolm got up and silently drew the curtains. Minerva remained seated on the edge of her bed, watching him.

"What is Dad going to do?" she asked, breaking the heavy silence between them. Malcolm shrugged.

"I don't know. Mum shut the parlor door, and I couldn't hear what else they were saying. I suppose he's going to try to move the family away from here - maybe go in to hiding until all this is sorted out."

"Are you sure you heard him right, Malcolm? It all seems so - so sudden! And strange!" 

"Minerva, I know what I heard. Mum was nearly in tears, fussing over the boys, and what could have happened with Goat. For Dad to be this concerned about the situation - it must be serious."

Minerva drew her knees up to her chest and sat for a moment, thinking things over. Malcolm sat across from her on the edge of the bed, staring down at his shoes. 

"Are you worried?"

"I don't know - are you?"

"No. Well - maybe a little. I just can't believe it!" Minerva sighed, and stifled a yawn. Malcolm gave her a crooked smile.

"I've just told you that our family is being targeted by dark wizards, and you're still ready to go to bed?" 

"I can't help it, Malcolm, I'm tired!" she moaned. He shook his head.

"Don't know what to do with you," he muttered, getting to his feet. She glanced up at him nervously. 

"Are you leaving?" she asked.

"Clearly you desire your beauty rest, so yes, I was planning on leaving. Why?" he asked her, somewhat suspiciously. She pushed her hair back and fluffed her pillows, trying to act normal, even though her brother's story had unnerved her immensely. 

"No reason. Good night, then." 

"Good night Kitty." He opened the door, and then paused for a moment, glancing back at her.

"If you need me, I'm right across the hall."

She smiled. "Good night, Malcolm!" she called, with a note of finality in her voice. She put out the light and laid down, but sleep was a long time coming. Her mind was buzzing with questions - was her father going to tell them what was going on? What were they going to do? Eventually, her exhaustion got the better of her, and she fell into a dark and dream-tossed sleep.

*******************

The rest of the Christmas break passed slowly and uneventfully. Minerva was watching her parents closely for any sign as to what might be going on, but they both seemed as normal as usual. Their father mentioned nothing of situation with Goat, and in fact seemed to be in a rather cheerful mood. Her mother was busy chasing the boys and didn't appear to be worried about any immediate danger. After a few days, Minerva was nearly convinced that Malcolm had imagined the whole conversation their parents had on Christmas. If there was anything going on, surely they would have said something to the children by now. Her worry began to abate, and she began to focus her attention towards homework, and the prospects of seeing Ian again. She was missing him terribly, and couldn't wait to thank him in person for her Christmas present.

"Min, do you want to go skating this afternoon?" Malcolm asked her one Saturday morning at the breakfast table.

"I can't - I need to finish my practical report for Charms this afternoon." she replied, helping herself to more eggs. Malcolm snorted.

"We've got three days left for that! Surely one afternoon out won't kill you!" 

"I've got tons more to do - and so do you, Malcolm. Perhaps you ought to stay in and do some homework as well."

"Bother that. I'm going to have fun while I still can." he replied, shoving half a scone into his mouth. Minerva rolled her eyes. Malcolm rolled his eyes as well, mocking her. The boys laughed. Typical breakfast. 

"I don't see why you have to be so immature sometimes, Malcolm - and so irresponsible!" she added, getting up from the table.

"And I don't see why you have to be such a priss sometimes, Minerva."

"Oooooo." Aidan whistled. The rest of the boys silently stared down at their breakfast plates as their sister whirled on Malcolm, anger flushing in her cheeks. Malcolm didn't seem ready to back down, however. He raised his voice slightly.

"What? Just because I ask you if you want to go out and do something, and you go all shirty with me - thats no reason to get so worked up, Minerva!"

"You are an insensitive ass, you know that, Malcolm?"

"Am I?! Why then, because I speak the truth?"

That was too much. She threw the contents of her juice glass in his face, so fast he didn't have time to duck. Then she turned on her heel and stomped angrily up the stairs to her bedroom without looking back. Malcolm remained frozen in his seat for a moment, orange juice dripping down his face. Then he slammed his chair back and rushed out into the yard.

"It's nice that we aren't always the ones causing a scene." Sloane remarked to his brothers. They shrugged and continued to eat breakfast.

Minerva spent the entire morning up in her room, mulling over her anger. Malcolm could be sweetness itself when he wanted to, but he could be a jerk as well. It bothered her more than anything when he did things like this, because she knew that _he _ knew how much his comments hurt her. She cried for awhile - out of of frustration and anger, but also because she was genuinely upset. She was obsessive about school sometimes, she knew that. But she made a conscious effort not to be a prissy know-it-all about it - that was something she feared. Malcolm knew this as well - so why did he say it? Worse, he didn't even bother to come up and apologize. Well, this time,she wasn't going to be the one to back down. This time she was waiting for him to come to her. Lunch time came, and she refused to come downstairs. 

"Is there something wrong, Minerva?" her father asked tentatively, standing in the doorway of her bedroom. It was unusual for her to remain secluded from the rest of the family for so long. 

"No, Dad. I - I just don't feel that well. I think I'm going to take a nap."

"Thats a fine idea, don't want to get yourself run down right before you go back to school. You just rest, dear, your mother and I will be downstairs if you need anything."

She buried her face in her pillow and listened to his footsteps retreat back downstairs. She heard a slight commotion from the front hall, and then the front door banging shut - the boys going out to skate, she supposed. Perhaps a nap was a good idea. He head was starting to hurt again, probably from crying. She closed her eyes. Yes, she would just take a little rest, and then she'd get to her Charms homework. No sense in letting Malcolm get to her - he'd come begging for her forgiveness eventually. Before she knew it, she was asleep.

***********************

She was never sure what woke her. The house seemed silent, and the sky was turning pale pink with the oncoming dusk. She sat up sleepily, wondering what time it was, and if the boys were back yet. She scolded herself inwardly for sleeping so long - all that time, she could have been doing much more productive things. 

She pulled herself out of bed and opened the door, prepared to go downstairs and have something to eat. She'd missed lunch due to her own stubbornness, but she wasn't about to miss dinner. Funny, she didn't hear her mother down in the kitchen - surely she would be starting dinner by now. In fact, the whole house seemed very quiet - and still. Something didn't seem right. Her stomach quivered. Where was everyone?

Slowly she headed for the stairs. She took them step by step, listening for any sounds coming from below. She reached the front hall but still, the house seemed cloaked in silence. The air itself seemed thick with a tense energy, making it difficult for her to breathe. She paused at the bottom of the stairs, debating what to do next. She wanted to call out to them - she wanted to hear her mother's voice reply, saying they were all out back, feeding Goat or something like that. Goat. She'd forgotten about that. Oh God, she wanted her brothers. . . 

She forced herself to cross the front hall, towards the parlor. Her whole body was on edge, quivering with anxiety. And dread. She didn't know what made her open the parlor door. It was almost as though she knew, before her hand even touched the doorknob, what she was going to find. But she opened the door anyway - because she knew she had to be brave. Her father expected her to be brave - and she always lived up to his expectations.

They were lying on the floor, in front of the fireplace. How long had they been there? Minutes? Hours? Her father lay face up, his wand still clasped in his outstretched hand. His face was frozen in an expression of shock, and . . . was it fear? Beside him lay her mother, her cheeks stained with tears.Her face pale. Thankfully, her eyes were closed, so Minerva couldn't see the pain.

Minerva's mouth was open, but no sound was coming out. Her parents, lying there - unmoving, not breathing. But more horrifying than that, was what surrounded them. For there, burned into the center of the parlor floor, was a skull. The Dark Mark. The mark of death. 

She wasn't really seeing it. She wasn't really seeing anything. But there it all was, in sharp, clear focus. Then the room began to spin, and the image blurred - and she was thankful not to see it anymore. The last thing he remembered before it all went black, was the look of terror in her father's eyes. Fear of the evil. Fear of death.

*****************

"Minerva!!"

Someone was calling her, but she was too tired - too tired to even open her eyes.

"Oh God - please, God - Minerva?!"

What did they want? Couldn't they see she was sleeping? Why couldn't they leave her alone?

The sounds became closer - someone was screaming, and crying. And someone continued to call her name.

"Kitty?! Kitty - talk to me, don't do this to me, Minnie - please, don't leave me here . . . "

She opened her eyes, and found herself staring into Malcolm's pale, tear-stained face. She was puzzled. Was he here to apologize?

"Minnie . . . ??" his voice was trembling, and the tears continued to stream down his face. Malcolm never cried, she wondered. What could - 

And then it all came back, the terrible, horrible image came rushing back so fast it took her breath away. She was lying on the floor, just outside the parlor door. The parlor. Her parents. Oh God, not her parents . . . 

"No!" it was the only word she could manage, before the hysterics began. He pulled her roughly into his arms, holding her so tightly she couldn't breathe, but it didn't matter. She couldn't feel pain, all she could feel was the horrible gnawing dread in the pit of her stomach. She was sobbing into the front of his shirt, sobbing as though she'd never stop. She couldn't erase that image - the image of her parents, lying there on the parlor floor. 

The look of terror in her father's eyes.   
  


* Well, there you have it! Tune in next time to find out what will become of the recently orphaned McGonagall children. Plus, we'll meet Ian for the first time, and hopefully begin the transition to present day Harry Potter events! Thanks everyone!* 


End file.
